


Mercy but Murders

by loftyperch



Series: TNbtR [2]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Aftercare, Angst, Angst and Smut, First Time, M/M, Sort Of, Wade Wilson Tries To Be Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21733540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loftyperch/pseuds/loftyperch
Summary: A prequel vignette toThere's Nothing but the Rain.Wade gets an offer.
Relationships: Tony Stark/Wade Wilson
Series: TNbtR [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566418
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61





	Mercy but Murders

**Author's Note:**

> Started as a throwaway line, just a little nod to the first time these two met in canon (it’s hot). Then I realized it had everything I wanted in a story: Deadpool being compassionate and clever, Tony being vulnerable and finding help in unexpected places. It just took on a little life of its own and became a salient factor in the larger plot. Et voila!

\------------  
Wade’s POV  
\------------

So, way back in the olden days when Tony was dying of palladium poisoning and I was actively terrified of showing Vanessa my new face, I got a very lucrative offer. Never mind _how_ lucrative; inflation will one day render it irrelevant. Let’s call it 50 gold doubloons ... to kill Tony Stark. 

All the details were provided, and I hopped on a plane to Monaco. Feeling absolutely no guilt whatsoever, I broke into Stark’s suite at l’Hotel de Fancy Pants via the balcony and psyched myself up to shoot him in the head.

He was passed out in bed, clearly in pain from whatever the fuck was crawling out of his arc reactor. The state of the room led me to believe that he’d already tried to hasten his demise with hard partying. 

I’d be doing him a favor.

Then he woke up. He was somewhere between still drunk and very hungover, yet he understood in an instant what was happening. He looked right past the gun in his face to _me_ … And, of course, I couldn’t do it! Who am I kidding? I would have chickened out _eventually_. I mean, who wants to be the guy that killed _Iron Man_? 

I sighed, thumbing on my safety and mourning every last doubloon as it slipped from my grasp. Almost disappointed, he closed those damn Bambi eyes and went back to sleep. Swearing a lot under my breath, I cleaned up what I could of the mess. Then I curled up in a nearby armchair and tried not to fall asleep.

Having failed, I woke around noon. I was happy to see Tony still breathing beneath the sheets.

With a yawn and a stretch, I ordered, like, _all_ the room service. Then I ducked into the bathroom and fired up the jacuzzi. Once the food, coffee, water and Guinness arrived, I gently shook Stark’s shoulder.

We didn’t need to talk at all, he knew the routine. He put his arm over my shoulder and let me help him into the tub. Under better circumstances, this would have made a fabulous porno. When he’d gotten some warmth back in his blood and movement back in his joints, we had breakfast. Then I shoved a few aspirin down his throat.

“Thank you, Wade,” he said, mostly seeming to mean it.

“So you know who I am?”

“Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Pool.”

He was sitting at the edge of the bed, so I knelt before him to look more closely at the arc reactor and the damaged tissue surrounding it. I nudged aside his robe to see how far the infection extended.

“Can I compensate you for lost wages?” he offered.

“No. I don’t want your money … But, as someone who also suffers from chronic pain, may I suggest a more life-affirming method of relief?” There was no need to elaborate further; he knew what I meant.

He insisted on peeling me out of my costume, and I almost backed out, but he let me insist on darkening the room, so I stayed.

And thank Dog that I did, ‘cause that fuck was exactly what I needed. He took everything I could give and then some, all my frustration, all my loneliness. Pounding him into those expensive sheets, making Significant Eye Contact, reminded me that not _everyone_ would react with disgust when they saw me. Vanessa and Tony had a lot in common, and she might be just as willing to overlook my exterior in favor of what I could do on the _in_ terior. (The boost in confidence was temporary, but that and others like it were cumulative. Within a few months I’d built up the courage to stop hiding from her gaze.) (And, pro-tip: Timing is everything, so it always helps to save someone’s life _right_ before taking off the mask.)

But anyway, we both got our rocks off, and we both felt instantly more alive. We didn’t kiss until afterward, and it felt like a pleasant formality, a mutual acknowledgement that the sex was good. Then we crashed until five-ish, at which time we took a shower (and indulged in a little more oral).

As I suited up and made to leave, he asked the question I had forgotten to dread all night.

“Hey, Wade … who hired you to kill me?”

I looked back over my shoulder and found him genuinely unaware of the answer.

“You did.”


End file.
